


Early Days

by Nezclaw



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, a little hurt/comfort, fluffy nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nezclaw/pseuds/Nezclaw
Summary: Short piece involving Mike wondering if he really belongs with these guys.





	Early Days

Why was he still here?

Mike sat on his bed in the room he shared with Micky, knees pulled up to his chest, deep in thought. He still wasn’t sure why he agreed to move in with them. He barely knew them. There was no reason for him to stay… except that there was nowhere else for him to go. Better to stay here, with a roof over his head, than to be out on the streets trying to scrape together enough money to eat at least one meal a day, not knowing where he’d sleep that night, or even if his guitar would still be there when he woke up again. It was better to stay. And at least he had something to eat more often than not… sure, there wasn’t that much, but he was used to that.

He rolled over onto his side. His gaze fell over Micky’s bed, blankets strewn everywhere and falling on the floor, pillows halfway there. He stood abruptly. The mess irked him. He proceeded to make up Micky’s bed. The action soothed him, it was routine. It was normal. Something for his hands to do while he thought. Why had Micky invited him to stay with them? Why hadn’t he kicked him out yet? He was hardly the most amiable of housemates. He avoided the others for the most part, except when he absolutely couldn’t help it. They weren’t unpleasant people to stay with, he reflected. The Jones kid didn’t like him that much, but Mike was used to that. At least he wasn’t blatantly rude. That Tork guy though… Surely no one was that naive?  He’d tried to talk to Mike a few times, but after Mike hadn’t really responded beyond the bare minimum he left him alone.

Mike finished tucking in Micky’s bedspread and flopped back on his own bed, staring at the ceiling. And then there’s Micky. Why was he being so nice? Mike wasn’t sure what it was Micky saw in him. He didn’t talk that much, yet Micky would yammer on at him regardless, telling him about himself, or make weird jokes, or do bizarre impressions, or climb on the furniture. Mike soon realized that it was pointless to react to his shenanigans. Micky would grin… and do something even more outrageous two minutes later. And yet… he listened when Mike asked him to leave him alone. He asked questions, but he stopped when Mike started getting uncomfortable and didn’t push. He- Mike’s train of thought is abruptly derailed by a loud thud and a cry of pain. Micky? He leapt off his bed and bolted downstairs, alarmed.

He found Micky on the floor, cradling his ankle. Peter and Davy were standing nearby.

“Micky what happened? Are you alright?” Mike asked worriedly, his normal reticence gone. He crouched by Micky, who grinned and tried to wave him off.

“Ahh it’s nothing Mike, I just landed badlyyyyaaahhhh!” His ankle collapsed as he put weight on it. Mike caught him as he fell, and helped him to the couch.

“Micky! Peter, get the first aid kit.” Peter jumped at Mike’s tone, but obeyed. 

“No, really Mike. You don’t have to do this. I’ve had worse before.” Micky insisted, although not particularly forcefully. He was actually rather touched at Mike’s concern.

“Uh huh. By which you mean you’ll wrap it and go right back to jumping off the furniture.” Mike scolded him. He did not miss the fleeting look of guilt that passed over Micky’s features. 

“That’s what I thought.” He gently removed Micky’s shoe and pushed his pants leg up to get a look at his ankle. It was definitely swollen. He began wrapping it. Micky let out a hiss of pain.

“Is it too tight?” Mike asked, concerned. Micky shook his head. 

“Nah, you’re doing great. Guess I hurt it worse than I thought.” He grinned. Mike shook his head.

“Davy could you get the ice?” he asked. There is a thunk on the table next to him. 

“Thanks.” Davy scowls. He didn’t appreciate being told what to do by some skinny weirdo who barely spoke most of the time. Suddenly he was taking charge? He didn’t like it. The Mike he knew stayed in the background and watched. Davy would look up and see him standing in a corner, like some silent southern specter. Or he’d see him sitting on the upstairs landing, knees pulled up to his chest and that silly hat perched on his head, watching them all with those expressionless brown eyes. That often was the case when they were rehearsing. He wouldn’t join them, even though he could play, but instead just sit there. It was rather unnerving. 

And suddenly he’s acting all concerned about Micky? What was he playing at? He opened his mouth to challenge him, only to see Micky shake his head at him. He didn’t like it, but he had enough respect for him to hold off on confronting Mike. He continued to scowl, before stalking off to his room to sulk. Peter soon followed him. The door to their shared room closed… but then drifted slightly open. Davy may not like Mike… but he did kinda want to know what he would do next.

Mike prepared an ice pack and handed it to Micky to put on his ankle, which he had propped up on the table on a pillow. 

“Now you keep off that ankle y’hear?” he said as he put the ice and first-aid kit away. Micky noticed that his accent had gotten a bit stronger.

“Yes, Dad.” Micky said sullenly. Mike jerked, startled by Micky’s tone. He looks over to see Micky grinning broadly. Mike smiled slightly in return.

“Do you need anything else? Want me t’turn the TV on?” Micky nodded.

“Yeah that’d be great thanks.”

“All right. If you need anythin’ else you just tell me ok?”

“Got it.” Micky said. He seemed to consider for a moment. “Actually, there is one thing you could do…”

“What is it?” Mike asked. Micky patted the couch beside him.

“Join me?” he asked hopefully. “I could use the company.” Mike hesitates. On the one hand his brain was screaming at him to stop, to leave, he’s already done enough damage today, you’re gonna screw it up somehow, he’s just saying that to be polite he doesn’t actually want you there none of them do they don’t like you at all…

But on the other hand… 

Micky had never done anything to hurt him. He had taken him in, accepting him just as he was. He always tried to invite Mike along on whatever activities he and the others had planned, and seemed genuinely disappointed when Mike inevitably declined. Micky beamed at him hopefully. Mike sighed.

“Okay.” He sat down next to Micky. Micky was sitting in the middle of the couch, so Mike sat on the end, trying to avoid accidentally brushing against him. He wasn’t sure how Micky would react to that. Sure, from what he’d seen Micky was a very tactile person but that was with the others. Not him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, retreating back into the shelter of his own head. Of course Micky wouldn’t do that with him. He- huh? He was startled out of his reverie by a touch on his shoulder. He tensed and pulled away reflexively, but then relaxed, even leaning into the touch slightly when he realized what Micky was doing. Micky smiled.

“Hey, Mike?” he said, “Thanks for earlier.” He felt Mike shrug.

“It was nothin’.” he mumbled, embarrassed. “You did th’ same for me.” Micky nodded, his hand still on Mike’s bony shoulder. Mike was right, but that wasn’t all of it. Micky had seen the look of genuine concern on the Texan’s face when he’d seen Micky was hurt. That was more than just repayment of a debt, and it proved what Micky had always believed, that Mike was a good person at heart. He hoped that Davy and Peter would come to see in Mike what he did, that he wasn’t cold or aloof, just shy, lonely, and scared. Mike needed them, even if he wouldn’t admit it even to himself. He needed some kind of stability, the comfort that routine brings. Micky saw it in the way Mike would clean up around the pad, even though he knew it wouldn’t last and he’d have to do it over again the next day. He never complained though, and in fact seemed to enjoy pitting himself against the forces of entropy that the other three generated. Life had not been kind to Mike Nesmith, and while Micky couldn’t change what had already happened he was determined to make sure that Mike no longer had to face the future alone. No matter what happened. Man when was the last time anyone had even given him a hug? 

Mike looked up as the commercials ended. Micky wasn’t the quietest person to watch tv with… he was a big fan of reacting dramatically to minor plot points, for example… and yet, and yet Mike found he didn’t mind that much. It was a weird feeling… a feeling made even weirder when Micky put his arm around his shoulders, leaned against him, and started snoring. Mike tensed and tried to pull away, get up and go to bed himself, but when he moved Micky only snuggled in closer with a mumbled objection. And… well… was this really so bad? He was warm, he was fed, he was out of the rain and wind. He sighed, before pulling his hat down over his eyes and nodding off himself.

* * *

 

“What’s going on now?” Peter asked Davy. The two of them had been spying on Mike and Micky from their room.

“I don’t believe it!” Davy exclaimed softly, Peter bounced slightly.

“What? What is it?”

“They’re asleep!”

“What? Mike too?” Peter exclaimed incredulously. 

“Sure looks like it.”

“We should probably turn the TV off then.”

“Yea.” The two of them crept out to where the other two were sleeping. Mike looked vulnerable sitting there, his face and body more relaxed than they’d ever seen him be awake. Come to think of it, none of them had seen Mike asleep before. He was always the last to go to bed and the first up in the morning. Peter suddenly darted upstairs. He returned moments later with the blanket from Micky’s bed, which he gently laid over the two sleeping figures. Davy took one last look at the two of them before switching off the TV and returning to his room and going to sleep himself. Peter stayed long enough to put the ice pack, which by now was completely melted, in the sink before yawning and going to bed as well.

* * *

 

Mike woke suddenly in response to the cold spot he felt where Micky had been leaning against him. He stared around in confusion. This wasn’t his bed. What was he doing on the couch? Where did this blanket come from? What… how long had he slept?? The sun was shining brightly through the windows. He pulled the blanket closer around him, huddling down to try to reduce this feeling of... of vulnerability he felt at having slept so late. He’d really slept all night down here?

“Hey sleepyhead!” Mike jumped at Micky’s greeting, which led him to overbalance and fall off the couch in a tangle of blankets and limbs with a small yelp. He hears footsteps approach as he tries to untangle himself. A hand appears in his field of view. He looks up. 

“Need some help?” Micky asked kindly. Mike looks away, hesitating, before taking Micky’s hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet.

“Coffee?” He offered Mike the mug in his other hand. “I hope it’s ok…” he added. “I’m not sure how you like it.” Mike nodded thanks and took the mug, not meeting Micky’s eyes. He wasn’t sure how he felt anymore. He sipped the coffee. It was bitter and strong, but not too strong. He sat back down. What was it with this guy? Here he had Mike in an incredibly vulnerable position, and what did he do? He made him coffee. No mention of what happened last night at all. What did he want? Why did he put up with him?

“Micky…” he said, staring into his coffee, “What do you want from me?” Micky sat down on the couch beside him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean… why are you doin’ this for me? You don’t even know me.” Mike muttered. Micky shrugged.

“We needed another guitarist?” he grinned hopefully. Mike scowled.

“You can find guitarists anywhere. I’m just a nobody. I don’t deserve this.”

“Mike, don’t say that.”

“And why not? It’s true.” Mike growled. “Y’all hate me. I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“Mike… I don’t hate you. Peter doesn’t hate you. Peter doesn’t hate anyone. Davy… well he might not like you, but he doesn’t hate you. Mike… Would I have asked you to sit with me last night if I hated you? Would I have fallen asleep on you if I hated you?” He chuckled, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t actually plan on doing that by the way… guess i was tireder than i thought. You are really comfy you know that?” Mike continued to scowl into his mug. Micky patted him on the shoulder. 

“Mike, you care. I saw that when I first met you, and I saw it again last night when you were fixing my ankle. That’s why I asked you to stay with us. Because you do deserve this.” he gestured around at the pad. “You’re a good person Mike. Davy and Peter might not see it, you might not even see it, but I do. And I believe in you.” He gave Mike a quick hug around the shoulders. “Speaking of Davy and Peter… I should probably go find them. Make sure they haven’t gotten into trouble. See ya!” He ran off towards the beach.

Mike watched him go. He finished his coffee and went back to his room to put on some fresh clothes. Did Micky mean what he said? He wanted to say no… but he wasn’t as sure of that anymore. Maybe he did mean it.

Maybe this  _ was _ different.


End file.
